


Coming Home

by persephone622



Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Promise, Slow Burn, but I will tag them, there will be trigger warnings later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:51:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3228191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephone622/pseuds/persephone622
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom falls for an American named Sara. But can he handle her secrets?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I've been working on for a good long while. It's posted over on tumblr as well. Still currently in progress. I apologize now because I am not the best at consistent updates. But I'll try. Please don't hesitate to send feedback! I love hearing from my readers!!

The air was cool, stale, and burned slightly as it entered my lungs but I was far past caring. My deep breath felt like coming home and I couldn’t help letting my eyes slide closed and a small smile to grace my lips. London. This new-old city that I had left half my heart in so many years ago was now reclaiming me as a prodigal daughter, my sundered heart mending easily and quickly as I stood in its ageless beauty, a far cry from the small American town I had left three months ago.

“Sara!” I turned at the exasperated male voice behind me, blue-gray eyes glaring back at me. “What are you doing?” He found the slim, silver camera in my grasp, poised to snap a photo, and sighed. “Seriously? Sharon didn’t give me these passes so you could do research!”

I smirked and quickly took the picture before turning to follow him inside the building, arching an eyebrow. “Technically, Sharon didn’t give them to you at all,” I countered, rubbing my hands together to return feeling to my fingers. “She gave them to me. And I only do my research on my days off, _which is today_. And, while I’m grateful to your director for the passes, I am way behind.”

“Sara,” he sighed, draping an arm around my shoulders. “You have from now until forever to do research for your novel. I only ever see you when you’re working. You’re a great assistant, but sometimes I want my _sister_. And not with her nose pressed against her computer screen.” He gave me a slight shake, returning the glare I shot him with a grin. “You need to have some fun, dearest sister of mine!” His expression softened, an almost pleading light in his eyes. “You _deserve_ to have some fun.”

I gave him a small, knowing smile. “I’m your only sister, Benjamin,” I countered, wrapping an arm around his waist and giving him a grateful squeeze. “If I comply, will I avoid the face?”

“What face?” he asked. “This face?” His lip stuck out and his eyes turned down as he pouted at me, blinking rapidly.

“Yes, Benji, _that_ face,” I laughed, shoving him away. “Okay, okay! No more research until _after_ the event.”

“Works every time,” he crowed, planting a kiss to the top of my head as we re-entered the room where the meet and greet was happening. “Besides, you wouldn’t have been able to say no, even without the face. I know you’re a fan.”

“Slightly,” I agreed. He leveled me with a look. “Okay, more than slightly. But so are you.” I paused as we neared the line, grimacing. “We lost our spot, didn’t we?”

“Nope,” Benji replied, taking my hand and tugging me along behind him. “The lady behind us said she would hold our place.” He smiled and waved at a pretty strawberry-blonde woman as we neared, her brown eyes brightening as she spied him and returned the gesture. “Sara, this is Rachel.”

“Nice to meet you,” I greeted, offering my hand.

“And you,” Rachel replied. “Your brother was quite worried about you.”

I shot him a sideways look, but he studiously avoided my gaze, his blue-gray orbs scanning the room. “He does that,” I murmured.

“Do you have a camera?” a young voice exclaimed, drawing my attention to the petite blonde standing beside Rachel. Her hazel eyes were hopeful. “Mum forgot hers and I want a picture.”

“Lily!” Rachel exclaimed, shooting the girl a chastising look.

“Benji said she had a camera!” the girl protested.

I couldn’t help the smirk that painted itself across my face. “I do,” I replied. “And you’re welcome to use it.”

Lily gave her mother a triumphant look before returning her focus to me. “Did you come to see him too?” she asked.

“Him?” I asked, sparing a curious glance towards Rachel.

“Tom Hiddleston,” she supplied. “She is his biggest fan, I believe. We’ve watched _Thor_ at least twenty times since it was released.”

“Funny,” Benji interjected, giving me a sly look. “So have we.”

“Mostly on the nights _you_ get to choose the movie,” I countered, flashing him a sweet smile as he pouted playfully.

“I’ve seen everything he’s been in,” Lily stated matter-of-factly.

Benji and I paused, giving Rachel a wide-eyed look. “Everything I’ve _approved_ ,” she corrected, a knowing glint in her brown eyes. “She _is_ only ten.”

“I’m going to work with him when I grow up,” Lily continued, ignoring her mother. “I’m going to be an actor.”

“Do you have a dream role you want to play?” Benji asked.

She nodded emphatically and grinned. “Loki,” she replied.

Rachel sighed beside me and I saw her shake her head out of the corner of my eye, but I kept my gaze glued to Lily’s, pretending to study her. “Yes, I could see it,” I mused after a moment. “After all, Loki was a woman for a bit in the comic books.” Lily’s hazel eyes lit up with an appreciative and almost worshipful glow as I leaned close, grinning. “I think you would be a _marvelous_ Lady Loki.”

“Not for a few more years, I hope,” said a smooth, distinctly male voice. “I quite enjoy the role at the moment.” We started as a group, turning our focus to the tall, lean man that stood before us, his blue-green eyes amused as Lily loosed an excited squeal. He squatted down and offered his hand. “Might I have the name of my future leading lady?”

“Lily,” the girl replied after a moment, suddenly shy. “Lily Roberts.”

“Hello, Lily, Lily Roberts,” he crooned. “I’m Tom.” He grinned as she giggled, his gaze flickering upwards. “And who are your friends?”

“This is my mum,” Lily replied, gesturing towards Rachel, who smiled.

“Hello, Mum,” Tom teased, returning the smile easily as he stood.

Rachel chuckled softly. “Rachel.”

“Rachel,” he repeated, nodding in greeting.

“That’s Benji and that’s Sara,” Lily continued.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Tom said earnestly, his gaze intense as he grasped my hand. His grip was warm and firm, his first two fingers brushing lightly across the inside of my wrist as he gave a small squeeze, making me inhale sharply through my nose as the skin tingled with the contact. I felt the loss keenly as he let go, his focus shifting to my brother. “Benji . . . you look familiar.” He tilted his head slightly, endearingly, eyes narrowed in study as they slid over Benji’s features a moment before recognition washed over his expression. “ _Noises Off_! I saw you perform last month. You were brilliant.”

Benji blushed slightly, giving him a small smile. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Pretty sure I wouldn’t have been quite as brilliant without Sara. She kept real life at bay so I could focus on the show. I was an absolute wreck.”

“Well, you did a marvelous job, then, love,” Tom said, shooting me a dazzling grin and a wink.

“Uh . . . thank you,” I stammered, surprised, my lips tilting with a slight smile.

“Can I get a picture?” Lily exclaimed, tearing his piercing gaze away from mine. “Please?”

“Of course!” Tom exclaimed pleasantly, grinning down at her. “Anything for my Lady Mischief.” Lily giggled again as he knelt beside her, the pair turning their gazes towards me as I dug in my bag for my camera.

“Ready?” I asked, framing the shot as Lily wrapped her arms around Tom’s neck, their cheeks mashed together. “Perfect.”

“One with Mum?” Tom asked, glancing at the girl with a questioning look. She nodded and he wrapped a long, toned arm around her waist, settling her on his hip as he stood, and enveloping Rachel with his free arm across her shoulders, meeting my gaze. “One more?”

I returned his question with an easy smile, repeating the process. “Again, perfect.”

“Wait!” Lily cried as he moved to set her down, her thin arms tightening around him. “Can . . . can I have one with Sara, too?”

“Oh, Lily, you don’t . . .” I trailed off as Tom gave a thoughtful hum, his gaze sliding over me in careful perusal.

“She seems a rather willing minion,” he murmured solemnly, adjusting Lily on his hip slightly. “I think it fair to grant this one boon.” He met Lily’s gaze and winked before resuming his grave expression, an enraptured giggle escaping the girl. “This is your wish, Lady Mischief?”

“It is,” she replied, her tone matching his almost perfectly.

Tom nodded and gestured me forward into Rachel’s vacated spot, his arm slipping around my waist and tugging me close. “Feel privileged, mortal,” he teased, his tone more playful than solemn this time. My lips twitched against a smirk, the feeling of his hand palming my hip warm and steady.

Rachel took the camera from my outstretched hand, once again going through the motions until the light flashed and captured the shot before passing it back to me. “Got it,” she stated. Her brown eyes were filled with gratitude as she addressed Tom. “Thank you. I think you’ve made her year.”

“My pleasure,” Tom laughed, releasing his hold on me and setting Lily back on her feet. “Truth be told, I think she made mine.” He glanced along the line of people that continued after us before giving each of us an apologetic look. “It was lovely to meet you. Truly.” He smiled and stepped away, his focus on the next set of fans that awaited his attention.

“Sara! Sara!” Lily exclaimed, her small hands latching onto my arm and tugging, forcing me to meet her exhilarated gaze. “Can I see? Please?”

I glanced up as the next cast member neared our spot, slipping the camera back into my bag. “After,” I promised, patting her head and smiling as she tucked her hand into mine.

The skin on the back of my neck prickled and I glanced up in time to meet familiar blue-green eyes for the briefest of instances before Tom returned his attention to the young woman that chattered at him. It was curious gesture and I couldn’t help the slight thrill that coursed through me, along with the confusion. The look in his brilliant, gemstone gaze sent warm tingles along my skin, and the sensation of being watched lasted till the end of the event.

Lily didn’t release my hand until we stood outside afterwards, the cold winter air wrapping around us. “ _Now_ can I see?” she pleaded.

“Lily,” Rachel warned, slipping her daughter’s hands into a pair of pink gloves. “Ask nicely.”

“Can I see the pictures please?” she intoned dutifully, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet as she waited.

“Of course,” I said, smiling and digging the camera free of my bag before pulling up the photos and handing it over. The three of us shared a laugh as she squealed softly.

“Thank you,” Rachel murmured after a moment, her fingers squeezing my forearm gently.

“No problem,” I replied.

“Yeah,” Benji agreed. “She goes _nowhere_ without that camera.” He smirked, dodging the elbow I aimed towards his ribs.

Rachel shook her head. “No,” she stated. “No one has . . . usually people laugh at her when she tells them about wanting to play Loki.”

“They are clearly ignorant,” I replied, my tone a mixture of teasing and aggravation. “And grateful that I don’t know who they are.” Rachel gave me a smile, which I returned easily. “Is she honestly only ten? She seems . . . older _and_ looks younger.”

“She . . . uh, she’s always been petite,” Rachel replied, somewhat evasively. Her expression softened as she watched her daughter, the younger blonde yawning loudly. “We should probably go.”

Lily whined, looking up at her mother with a pleading gaze. “Just a little while longer,” she insisted. “We need to get the pictures from Sara!”

“Oh, I can email those, sweetie,” I returned, smiling ruefully as her face fell. “But that means your mom will have my email.”

The wheels turned almost visibly in her mind as she worked through my words, a brilliant smile lighting her features once understanding dawned. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Mum, give her your email!”

Rachel and I exchanged a chuckle and I pulled out my phone, typing in the address she gave me. “And, now, Miss Lily,” Rachel stated firmly as the girl yawned spectacularly again. “Home. Before you collapse.”

Lily grumbled, but obeyed, passing the camera back before dutifully taking her mother’s hand. “Bye, Sara,” she muttered, following Rachel towards the street. “Bye, Benji.”

“Lily!” Rachel exclaimed suddenly as the girl jerked her hand free and raced back towards where I stood, her thin arms wrapping tightly around my hips as she buried her face against my stomach.

“Goodbye, Lady Loki,” I murmured, gently stroking her long blonde hair. She lifted her head and grinned, giving me one last squeeze before racing back to her mother, the pair disappearing with a wave.

“So, did you have fun?” Benji asked as we turned and made our way towards the car park. “I mean, it seemed like you did, what with the eyes you kept making at Tom.”

I blushed violently at having been caught, making him laugh and earning him a sharp poke in the ribs from my elbow. “Yes, I had fun,” I said firmly, intent on changing the subject. “Does that mean I’m allowed to do research now?”

“Well, you did fulfill your end,” he mused. “I suppose.” He smirked as I rolled my eyes. “Where did you want to start?”

“You don’t need to stay, Benji,” I stated, twisting to once again pull my camera from my bag. “Go home. You have an audition tomorrow to prepare for, because _I know_ you haven’t yet.”

“I’m fine,” he protested. “I will be fine. I can stay with you.” A nervous light lit his blue-gray eyes, his arm twining around mine. “I _should_ stay. I’m going to stay, Sara.”

“Benjamin, I will be fine,” I countered gently, pulling my arm free and stopping. “It’s been three months. Three months and nothing.” I reached up and cupped his cheeks, stretching to press an affectionate kiss to his forehead. “I can take the Tube or catch a cab home. I’ll be fine.” He hesitated, doubt burning in his blue-gray orbs. “ _Go_.”

He sighed, resigned, and wrapped his arms around me in an almost stifling embrace. “Just . . . be careful,” he murmured. A smirk covered his face when he pulled back, the familiar playful twinkle back in his eyes. “You know, this only worked because you sound so much like _Mom_.”

“Yes, well, someone has to,” I retorted, rolling my eyes. “Go on. I’ll be out no later than an hour, tops. Promise.”

“You’d better keep that,” Benji ordered, resuming his path towards the car. “Or I _will_ be calling Scotland Yard.”

I just smiled and waved him off, watching until he disappeared before turning my attention to the bustling city around me. “I will be fine,” I stated firmly.

* * * * *

“Did you get her number?”

Tom jumped slightly at the question, glancing at the man suddenly walking beside him whose silver-blue eyes seemed to glow with curiosity. His eyebrows lifted. “Who?” he asked.

Benedict leveled him with a look. “The pretty brunette you couldn’t stop stealing glances at,” he countered.

He felt the heat rush to his cheeks, nervously adjusting his coat collar as they stepped outside and silently cursing the setting sun that revealed his blush as Benedict chuckled. “I met quite a few brunettes, Ben,” he retorted acerbically even as Sara’s face flickered through his thoughts.

“So did I,” Benedict murmured cheerfully. “But I didn’t feel the need to stare at any of them.”

“I didn’t stare,” Tom countered, grimacing at the petulant tone in his words.

“No,” Benedict drawled sarcastically. “You just scanned the room several thousand times and your gaze _happened_ to land in the same spot _every time_.”

Tom huffed, shooting the man an aggravated look as he chuckled. And the reason it grated so much was because it was the absolute truth. He’d found his gaze wandering more than once to the foursome, usually settling on Sara and her warm, deep brown eyes, her honest smile. She really shouldn’t have left that much of an impression: they’d shared half a moment. _If_ that. And most of it had revolved around Lily. He pursed his lips against the smile that threatened to stretch across his face at the memory of the small blonde girl, feeling Benedict’s gaze on him and knowing he’d misinterpret the gesture. Although, it wasn’t a far stretch, as Sara once again slid to the forefront of his thoughts.

“So, did you?” Benedict pressed, pulling him from his reverie yet again. “Tell me you at least got her name.”

He sighed, running a hand over his face as they approached the car waiting for him. “If I answer, will you leave me alone?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. Benedict made an acquiescent gesture, but the glint in his gaze sparked suspicion in Tom’s gut. “Her name is Sara, and, no, I didn’t get her number.” He opened the car door and shot Benedict a silencing look. “ _Goodbye_ , Ben.” Benedict’s knowing smirk followed him down the London street.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I know it's been a bit since I updated! Life ha been crazy, as per usual. But here is chapter 2. Hope you enjoy!

My gaze found the sidewalk as I hurried down the street towards the tube station, my shoulders hunched and forcing my coat collar around my ears in a desperate attempt to avoid the chill wind that swirled around me. I stumbled in slight surprise as a gentle vibration started against my hip, my movements quick and sloppy as I fought to dig my phone out of my pocket. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” Benji asked. “I need my pre-audition pep talk.”

I chuckled softly, adjusting the strap of my dark purple messenger bag against my chest. “I just left the restaurant,” I soothed. “On my way to the Tube now. Rachel and Lily say hi, by the way.” I stopped, ignoring the annoyed shuffling as people moved around me, and glanced at the clock on my phone. “Your audition isn’t for another two hours. We usually do the pep talk just before.”

“I know,” he sighed, exasperated and nervous sounding. “But this is _television_ , Sara. It’s . . . different. And I’m nothing but nerves right now. I’ve thrown up twice.”

“Sweetie,” I lamented, glancing around carefully before sliding towards the edge of the sidewalk, leaning against the stone pillar of a nearby building. “Breathe. Deep.” I could hear his shaky inhales through the phone. “Listen to me very carefully. You are amazing. You are talented. You deserve this. So own it. You will go into that audition and blow them away. And what happens if they end up saying no?”

“I brush it off and move on,” he replied. “Look for the next. Keep going.”

“Yes, absolutely,” I agreed, smiling as his breathing started to even out, his words confident. “Better?”

“Much,” Benji said, his tone grateful. “So, you’re on your way?”

I pushed off the pillar and rejoined the flow of foot traffic. “Yes,” I stated. “Should be home in a half hour, maybe forty-five minutes . . . ah!” My leg buckled with a sudden pain and I stumbled, only just catching myself.

“Sara?” Benji’s voice was filled with worry in my ear. “What’s wrong?”

“My . . . my leg,” I muttered, grimacing against the ache that settled underneath my skin. “Maybe you should plan on forty-five minutes.”

“Are you all right?” he fretted, his voice bordering on frantic. “Do you have your pills? Do you need me to come get you?”

“Benji, breathe,” I ordered, massaging my thigh. “You’re going to throw up again and I’d rather you did that because of nerves not because you’re freaking out about me.” I sighed. “I’m fine. Yes, I have my pills. No, you don’t need to come get me. I can still walk. Slowly, but I can still walk.”

“I should come get you,” he offered. “I’ll catch a cab. Where are you?”

“Benjamin.” He fell completely silent at my firm tone. “You don’t need to come get me. You _need_ to calm down. I’ll stop and get a water or something, take a pill, and then I’ll get on the train. Breathe. I’ll be home in forty-five minutes.”

“Be careful,” he said after a moment.

I smiled knowingly. “I always am,” I replied. “Now, you need water. You’re probably a bit dehydrated. I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

“Love you too, sis,” Benji echoed. “See you.”

A sigh pushed past my lips as I ended the call, shooting my offending appendage a dark look before resuming my forward motion, now much reduced as I limped along. The dull ache was nothing new, usually making its presence known after a strenuous day, and this morning was no exception. I’d been on it, working it, for too long and now it was protesting. It was with an almost euphoric feeling that I spied the familiar siren logo on glass, my body turning towards it, her song pulling me like the sailors of old.

My lopsided balance betrayed me as someone much faster slid around me to dash into the shop, their shoulder clipping mine and leaving me to totter a bit before rushing face-first towards the sidewalk. “Oh, shit,” I cursed, my arms flinging out in front of me, muscles tensed against the jolt that never came.

“Steady,” came a voice above me, my senses registering warm, strong arms wrapped around my waist. My body was tented slightly, nearly parallel to the sidewalk, and I could only imagine what position my savior stood in, the image making me blush. He- _definitely_ a he-tugged gently, shoes scuffing softly on concrete as he backed up. “Let’s get you upright.”

I grasped at his arms as we shifted, fingers digging in hard as I fought to maintain enough balance to keep me standing, my weight firmly settled on my left leg. “Thank you,” I murmured.

“You’re welcome,” he returned, his arms slipping from around my waist as he moved to stand before me. My eyes widened in absolute surprise as our gazes met, a nervous, pleasant tingle flitting over my skin at the flash of startled recognition that lit Tom’s blue-green eyes. “Sara.”

I blinked up at him, equally as startled as my name fell from his lips. His expression suddenly turned self-conscious, cheeks flushing a light pink, and he dipped his chin to his chest, avoiding my gaze. “Uh . . . are . . . are you all right?” he stammered.

It took a moment before his question registered, my mind still reeling at the fact that he remembered my name. “Um . . . yes,” I finally murmured. “Just fi . . . _ine_.” I grunted as my leg protested the fact that I was still standing, the dull ache blooming into a brief, sharp pain, my hands finding a tight grip in his leather jacket in order to stay upright. “I think . . . I should sit down. For a moment.” I shot him a sheepish smile. “Could you . . .?”

He moved instantly, winding an arm back around my waist and pulling me tight against his side, the familiar motion sending a new wave of tingling along my nerve-endings. Moving with me, he led me towards the door, his grip tightening as he pulled it open and ushered me towards the nearest empty table. A relieved sigh crossed my lips as I collapsed into the chair, the pain once again a dull ache as the shop’s warmth slowly seeped into my skin. “Are you sure you’re all right?” Tom asked.

I nodded, shooting him a small smile as I gently rubbed my thigh. “Fine,” I soothed. “I just need . . . something to drink.” Another sigh escaped me as I shot an almost longing glance at the counter a good distance away.

Tom’s large, warm hands settled on my shoulders as I started to stand, forcing me back into my seat. “Please,” he urged. “Let me. My treat.”

“Oh, no,” I protested, fighting against his hold as best I could. “You don’t have to. I’m sure you’re busy. I can get it.”

“I’m not,” he replied. “Just on my way home from a meeting. It really is no problem. Let me. Please.”

I shook my head. “I’m fine,” I insisted. “Truly.”

Tom gave me a dubious look. “You just almost fell twice,” he countered. “And one of those times from a standstill.” I met his gaze unflinchingly, watching as he pursed his lips against an obvious smirk. “Fine. If you can stand without grimacing, you can get it yourself.”

He stepped back, my eyes narrowing at his far-too-innocent smile and the knowing, smug glint in his eyes. Straightening my shoulders defiantly, I grasped the table and pushed upwards . . . promptly wincing as the muscles tensed in my right leg. I huffed and plopped back down, that smirk finally breaking free across Tom’s face. “Fine,” I grumbled. “But you’re not allowed to laugh at what I order. I get enough strange looks from the baristas as it is.” His eyebrow arched in curiosity and I felt a strange sort of clenching in my gut. “Iced Caramel Macchiato.”

“Iced?” he repeated. “You do realize that it’s January, yes?”

“Yes,” I returned, making a face at him and watching him smile, that strange clenching returning to my gut as I smiled back.

“Okay,” Tom allowed, amusement dancing in his eyes. “One iced Caramel Macchiato.” He gave a slight nod and turned, his long legs taking him to the counter in a few short strides.

I watched him as he ordered, his hands buried in his jacket pockets and body shifting slightly as he rocked up onto the balls of his feet and back down, waiting for my drink. He held himself with an elegant, confident grace, even fidgeting, and he attracted appreciative glances from more than just myself. My mind was a teeming mass of confused curiosity, his recognition of me believable but his knowledge of my name a complete and utter surprise. A pleasant one, but a surprise nonetheless. We had interacted for a total of _maybe_ ten minutes three days ago.

Tom turned and caught my gaze, a smile tilting his lips, and a sudden rush of déjà vu washed over me. The light in his eyes was identical to the one he’d had at the meet and greet, the one that was once again sending warmth radiating through me. It was attraction and admiration and curiosity all rolled into one, a look I hadn’t seen directed towards me in quite some time.

My leg pulsed and I loosed a soft gasp, my eyes sliding shut and breaking the connection with Tom. I waited till the pain settled again before pawing my way through my bag until my fingers wrapped around my bottle of pills. A reminder that I couldn’t entertain that look, no matter how I wanted to.

* * * * *

Tom couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, his gaze trained on the long, elegant line of Sara’s neck as she tossed back a small white pill. She was just as captivating as he remembered, her deep brown eyes ensnaring him completely as she took a long drink of her iced coffee. He could still sense her; the warmth of her body as he kept her from falling seemingly burned into his skin, the scent of vanilla and lavender that had clung to her now clung to him. That same scent wafted over him now as she shifted in the chair beside him, her body turning to face him, and he lost himself for just a moment, imagining what it would be to fall asleep with that smell wrapped around him, Sara’s body pulled tight against his. He blinked, quickly pushing that image aside. Fantasizing about a woman he didn’t even know . . . _in front of_ said woman, was a sure way to get into trouble.

“You don’t have to stay,” Sara murmured.

Tom shrugged, settling into his chair a bit more. “It really is fine,” he assured. “Like I said, my meeting’s long over and this is much more enjoyable compared to my empty flat.” He gave her what he hoped was a winning smile. “Besides, I am curious as to why you drink iced coffee in the middle of winter.”

She chuckled softly. “Just a matter of taste, I’m afraid,” she replied. “And I don’t have to wait for it to cool, therefore making it easier to consume more. And with all the running I have to do to keep up with my brother, that comes in handy.”

“Is it hard, juggling that with being an assistant?” he asked. Sara arched an amused eyebrow, smirking at him, waiting. “Oh. Benji’s your brother.” He barely suppressed the relieved sigh that threatened to escape him, adopting instead a sheepish expression.

“To be fair,” she offered, reaching over and patting his hand. His skin tingled and he felt the loss of her touch keenly. “We don’t really look alike. He’s blond, blue-eyed, and I’m . . . not.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “But you do have the same nose, now that I think about it,” he mused. Sara clapped her fingers over the feature in a self-conscious gesture, shooting him a dark look that simply made him laugh. The noise died on his lips as Sara inhaled sharply and winced, her hand dropping back to her leg and resuming its gentle rubbing motion. “Can I ask what happened?”

“Um . . . an old injury,” she muttered, studiously avoiding his gaze. “The cold aggravates it sometimes.” She busied herself with drinking her coffee, the two of them settling into a slightly awkward silence. It was obvious that there was more to the story, just like it was obvious through Sara’s body language that it was not a subject for conversation. And it only made him more curious.

He wanted to know her, know everything about her. She had intrigued him at the meet and greet but now, interacting with her one-on-one, he was absolutely captivated. By her eyes, her voice, her words, by _everything_. And although he would love nothing more than to taste her, trace the curves he was sure were hidden underneath her bulky winter clothes, he would be content with some sort of friendship. For now.

Tom fell out of his reverie to find himself ensnared in the sharp grasp of Sara’s eyes, her perusal blatant and curious. Her cheeks colored prettily as he arched an eyebrow and smirked at her, her gaze darting away. “Yes?” he asked.

“You . . . you remembered my name,” she stated after a moment.

His other eyebrow joined its twin. “Is that not allowed?”

She shook her head, smiling. “No, no, it’s fine,” she countered. “It’s fine, just . . . surprising. I mean, I can see you remembering Lily. And Benji. But not me.”

He adopted a wounded look, pressing his hand over his heart. “Forget you?” he teased. “My Lady Mischief’s beloved minion? And risk her wrath? Never.”

Sara laughed and Tom stared, entranced, the musical sound piercing straight to his core and settling deep within him. She was utterly transformed and absolutely gorgeous, the skin around her eyes and at the bridge of her nose crinkled and her head tilted back in her mirth. He felt the sudden, desperate urge to kiss her, only just resisting. “No,” Sara agreed, grinning at him, her dark brown eyes alight with amusement. “We most definitely couldn’t have that.” She tilted her head, her expression softening slightly. “She still talks about meeting you. You really made an impression.”

The smile he gave her was a bit self-conscious and he could feel the heat tingle across his cheeks. “Likewise,” he murmured. “I’ve never had anyone _want_ to work with me specifically before.”

“Well, I know for a fact that she’s not the only one,” she stated between sips of her coffee. “I think Benji would keel over if he found out he had the opportunity.” Sara paled. “Oh, god. Benji.” She dug almost frantically through her bag, groaning as she pulled out her phone. “Two missed calls and a message. I am so late.” She gave him an apologetic smile and pushed carefully to her feet, his hand grasping her elbow as she wobbled slightly.

“Careful,” he warned, standing as well. “I hope you’re not walking home.”

“Just to the station,” she stated, shaking her head.

Tom furrowed his brow. “That’s still a good distance,” he mused. “Would you let me hail you a cab instead?”

Sara shook her head emphatically. “Oh, no,” she protested. “You’ve already done enough. I’ll be fine.”

“Please,” he pressed. “I would feel better.”

Her brow furrowed and she stared up at him, her brown eyes searching his with a deep wariness. He could almost see her mind working, could see the moment when she gave in. “Fine,” she sighed, allowing him to wrap her hand around his arm and lead her towards the door. “But _I_ will pay. I already owe you for the coffee.”

“You don’t,” he countered firmly as they stepped outside, the cold bracing after the warmth of the shop. But his focus was lost for a split-second as Sara pressed closer, leeching his heat. “You don’t,” he repeated. “But if it does bother you, you can pay next time.”

“Next time?” she exclaimed, blinking up at him.

Tom met her gaze as one of London’s many black taxicabs veered towards them, taking in her bewildered and guarded expression with a sinking feeling. “Oh. Right,” he stammered. “Sorry. I just thought . . . I mean, I would like to . . .”

“Tom,” she said, her voice soft but tone firm as she cut him off, a smile tugging at her lips as he returned his gaze to hers. “Next time.”


End file.
